


The Importance of Sometimes

by doctor__idiot



Series: Kindergarten 'verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Inspired By Tumblr, M/M, Single Dad Sam, Unrelated Winchesters, kindergarten teacher dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 18:33:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10038680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctor__idiot/pseuds/doctor__idiot
Summary: Dean's got rules about this sort of thing and although it’s been known to happen, he tries not to make a habit of drooling over his kids’ parents. But it’s really fuc— fudging difficult sometimes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this Tumblr post](http://babybrotherdean.tumblr.com/post/157718796538/please-take-a-moment-out-of-your-day-to-consider). Saw it, thought Wincest, here we are.
> 
> I didn't specify the boys' age in the story but I imagine them to be around 24/25 and 28/29 respectively. Sam's daughter is around 5 years old.
> 
> Disclaimer: I'm German and our concept of kindergarten seems to be different from that in the States. It's not school. I wrote what I know. As always, nothing is mine and nothing is beta'd.

It’s barely eight AM and Dean is already tired. This hardly is his first rodeo but he barely slept last night and the three cups of coffee he’s had since he woke up aren’t living up to his expectations.

He wishes he could say that it was just one of those nights — blame the full moon, if you like — that turns into one of those days but, unfortunately, he knows exactly why he wasn’t able to sleep last night.

It’s ridiculous and stupid and embarrassing — you would think he’s one of the kids in his kindergarten class instead of the teacher — but, yesterday, a new kid was admitted to his group. Determined face framed by wild curls, she came through the door and immediately took a liking to Dean. Dean is genuinely glad about that because she definitely seems like someone who knows what — and who — they like.

Anyway, it’s not the girl who’s keeping him up at night. It’s the guy she dragged — and there’s really no other word for it — behind her during her first visit. She only let go of him briefly to allow him to shake Dean’s hand in greeting.

The man’s voice was deep and honey-rough, a vaguely Southern drawl but too generic to place it, and he introduced them as “Sam Winchester and little Josie”. The girl promptly muttered something about not being little at all anymore and the man placed his large hand on top of her head in a placating gesture, smiling down at her.

Despite knowing his name, Dean still refers to him as ‘hot dad’ in his head and he should definitely stop doing that. It’s really counter-productive.

He’s got rules about this sort of thing and although it’s been known to happen, he tries not to make a habit of drooling over his kids’ parents. But it’s really fuc— fudging difficult sometimes.

It’s been a long time that he’s lost sleep over it, though, and he doesn’t know what it is about that guy — besides the obvious fact that he’s blindingly gorgeous and his voice is nice to listen to and he sounds intelligent and his daughter, despite her ‘give them heck’ attitude, seemed reluctant to let him leave, staring up at him with the same adoration in her eyes that he’s got for her when she’s not looking.

Okay, maybe Dean knows what it is about the guy. 

It’s a dang shame, really, because it’s been a while since he’s felt this kind of instant attraction to another person, and it figures that it’s someone who’s pretty much off limits. Ain’t like it’s illegal but there’s such a thing as conflict of interest and playing favorites. Not that Dean’s the type to do that — at least, he doesn’t think he is.

He’s been at work since seven, setting up like every morning, waiting for the kids to arrive. He can’t help it if, from eight o’clock on, he keeps looking to the door every couple of minutes.

He’s like a school girl with a crush on a boy who’s got no flippin’ idea.

It’s twenty minutes past eight when the Winchester family of two piles in the door, Josie tugging impatiently at her father’s hand while said father looks distinctly harassed. Dean suspects that he is late for work; his shirt has come untucked on one side and his tie is slightly askew.

Josie says something to him and a crease forms between his eyebrows as he fixes her with a stern look — one that appears to have no effect whatsoever on Josie. He opens his mouth to say something but seems to think better of it when he sees Dean standing there.

Josie spots him then, too, and beams up at him. “Hello, Mr. Campbell.”

“Heya there, Josie,” Dean greets her, grinning at the little girl.

“Sorry we’re late,” she says, wringing her hands, but then her eye roll destroys the illusion of sheepishness, “Daddy burnt the eggs this morning and then he spilled coffee all over his shirt, so he had to change and —”

“Alright, honey,” her father cuts in with a cramped-looking smile, “That’s okay, that’s enough of an explanation, thank you.”

Dean is doing his best to hold in his laughter but he’s only human and he knows his lips are shaking where he’s got them pressed together against any noise that’s threatening to spill.

He receives a look from Josie’s dad that’s half-amused, half-mortified and Dean has to look away because otherwise he’ll burst out laughing. Besides, if he doesn’t, he might reach out to straighten the man’s tie and that would be majorly inappropriate.

Josie doesn’t pay either of them much mind as she starts shedding her winter coat and boots to run off and, no doubt, wreak some havoc at the drawing table.

“Well,” Dean says and it’s really embarrassing how awkward he is around this guy. 

_Man up, Campbell_.

The other man smiles at him then, lopsided and, oh god, are those dimples? So not fair.

“I’m already late for work,” he says, “but I just wanna say that … Josie had a good time yesterday. I was worried she wouldn’t react well to a new environment — we just moved here — but she seemed surprisingly cheery when I picked her up. I’m guessing a lot of that is your doing, so thank you.”

He seems to mean it, too, face open and honest, and for all of two seconds, Dean feels like the wind got knocked out of him. 

It sounds weak to his own ears when he clears his throat and says, “It’s my job, Mr. Winchester.”

“Sam. Please.”

“Sam.” Dean tries not to think too much about how much he likes how the name tastes on his tongue. “She seems great. She fits right in.”

“I’m glad.” Sam nods, drumming his fingers against his thigh. Dean isn’t sure whether he’s doing it because he’s late and impatient, whether it’s a nervous tic, or something else entirely, but he finds himself wanting to know … well, anything, everything. He wants to know everything about this man.

He’s so screwed.

Sam continues, “She’s usually not that quick to trust, so I guess I’m just surprised. Her mother and I split not that long ago and— Anyway, I just wanted to say … thank you. I guess.”

He trails off with an embarrassed, pinched expression that Dean shouldn’t find as cute as he does. 

“You said that already,” he can’t help but tease. “And you’re welcome.”

Sam nods again. He lifts a hand in goodbye, turning away, and Dean is about to check on the kids — he’s got help in the form of Joanna, who’s been his trainee for about a month now, but as much of a natural as she is, keeping thirty over-excited children in line by herself might be a little too much to ask.

“Wait,” Sam says suddenly, hurrying back the few steps he took toward the door, and he’s starting to look more harried and nervous by the minute, running his hand through his shaggy hair almost constantly. Dean subtly checks his watch. If the guy was late when he came in, he’s _really_ late now.

“I wanna ask you something, and it’s going to be really forward, so … feel free to shoot me down.” He’s wringing his hands in much the same way Josie was doing earlier. “Do you have a ‘no going out with the parents of your students’ policy?”

Dean’s stomach does a somersault. “Uh,” he says, blinking stupidly. He’s fairly sure his mouth is hanging open. He closes it with an audible snick.

“If you do, that’s cool,” Sam goes on, his words too-fast, tripping over themselves, much like Dean’s pulse is doing currently. “But if you don’t…”

“If I don’t … then what?”

Sam sucks in a sharp breath, visibly gritting his teeth. “God, this is really inappropriate. I should have waited at least a couple more days before springing this on you. I just…” He trails off, making a gesture with his hand that vaguely encompasses the length of Dean’s body and Dean feels his cheeks heat up. Feels his mouth curl into a smile.

He surprises himself by saying, “You started it, you might as well finish it,” voice a lot steadier than he feels.

Sam looks at him in astonishment as if he didn’t expect Dean to actually be receptive to what he’s suggesting. What _is_ he suggesting?

“If you don’t … maybe we could, I don’t know, get coffee some time?”

He is honest-to-god blushing now and every fiber in Dean’s body is screaming at him to say ‘yes’. Take a chance. Screw the rules.

“I don’t have a policy,” he says, “Not anymore.”


End file.
